


The Things We Do Behind Closed Doors

by A_Fine_Piece



Series: A Thin Red Line [43]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Infertility, Negotiations, Prostitution, Seduction, Taxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece
Summary: [Set prior to the beginning of the series] Hisana learns that securing an advantage for her House against the Central Chambers comes at a steep cost.
Relationships: Kuchiki Byakuya/Kuchiki Hisana
Series: A Thin Red Line [43]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/93946
Kudos: 12





	The Things We Do Behind Closed Doors

The sound of porcelain clinking together breaks the tense silence between the two.

“Thank you, Lord Yogi, for honoring me with your presence this afternoon,” Hisana begins, carefully pouring a cup of tea for the lord.

Lord Yogi is a small, slender man, with a sharp angular face, and a pointed chin. His eyes are small, but keen, and his hair is short, dark, and swept back. 

Gracefully, she hands him the cup. Their fingertips brushing for a brief moment. 

He recoils slightly at her touch. The reaction is brief, but she sees it, and represses the urge to grin. The sly glance, however, she can’t hold back.

“The pleasure is mine, Miss Hisana. You are a difficult woman to schedule an appointment with.”

She offers him a demure smile. “I appreciate the call, Lord Yogi. I know you don’t have to do this.” 

Lord Yogi takes a small sip of tea. “It is only fairness, Miss Hisana. We have spoken with the other stakeholders with respect to the proposed tax policy, including the nobility.”

She seriously doubts it is fairness that brings him to her door. If she had to make a wager, she would guess the true reason he has deigned to speak with her has more to do with the fact that she has curried favor with men who belong to two of the most respected and powerful families in the Seireitei. But, she holds her tongue and nods approvingly at the lie he has spun. “A prudent tact.”

Lord Yogi places his cup down; his shoulders shift forward slightly. “We wouldn’t want to upset the current market, as it seems the investments here in the Third District are, well, let’s say, _complicated_.”

Hisana lifts her head slightly at his wording and holds back a smirk. 

What he means to say is that the nobility’s investments in the pleasure quarters are deeply intertwined with their other investment opportunities. Raising the taxes on the services in the pleasure quarters will not only affect the bordellos and the women who work in them, but the nobles who invest in the houses and women themselves and the other merchants who have spent countless hours and money on investing in the two blocks of the Third District in order to capitalize on the men who visit the houses. 

“Understandably. It is wise to diversify,” she says, sipping her tea. “But, you’re not here to speak to me about investment portfolios and financial options as I have no interests in such dealings and there are better parties to consult.”

A lopsided grin curls a side of Lord Yogi’s lips and his gaze flits to his tea. “Astute. I’m not here to discuss the nobility’s transactions in the Third District. Although, it does seem you in particular have cultivated well-resourced allies among the gentry.”

Hisana lowers her head sweetly, subserviently, but the fire that burns in her eyes betray her. “I have been fortunate to be of service to such esteemed men.” The words come soft and delicate. 

Lord Yogi shifts uncomfortably, as if the thought of using the term “service” offends him in some small way. “Indeed, I have come to you today to inquire about the nature of your _services_.”

She doesn’t miss the way his voice hardens at the last word. She knows the sting of prejudice well enough, even if it is rarely directed at her specifically. 

“My understanding is that the Chambers seeks to classify courtesan services as _entertainment_ ,” she says evenly.

His crooked grin lengthens. “Yes, that is the classification proposed in the new tax policy. By the sound of your voice, however, I take it that you disagree.”

The porcelain of her tea cup clinks against the smooth wood of the small table set before her. “I am no tax expert, Lord Yogi,” she admits with a gentle look, “but, I’d like to think my services are more than a pretty diversion.”

His brows raise at this and his head bobs back, as if he is desperately trying to hold back a chuckle. “If not entertainment, Miss Hisana, what else? A public health service?” He scoffs at this.

She tilts her head to the side, her eyes warm, almost liquid in the dying sun of the afternoon. “Tell me, Lord Yogi, what is the most important value in our society? The glue that keeps us together?”

“Family,” he answers firmly. The light rebuking glint that once shined in his eye grows brighter, more severe. Censure deepens the lines of his face, as if he is expecting her protest.

“Indeed,” she agrees, and, for a moment, she sees the confusion clouding his eyes. “Family is one of our bedrock foundations here in Soul Society,” she says, not believing a word of it but selling it with such ease that he leans forward, the skepticism fading from his stare. 

She continues, “Family is what makes us _civilized_. And, our services offer a sense of community, of family, to those who partake.”

“You mean to tell me you actually _believe_ you serve a public health function.”

Hisana tips her head back, unfazed by the brazenness of disbelief. “We provide comfort to those who seek our services, serving as confidents and providing vital health outlets. We also aid those in the marriage state.”

“Aid those in the marriage state?” he chokes the words out between wet chuckles.

“By all accounts, Lord Yogi, you are an honorable man with an honorable family.” She pauses a moment for effect, and, once she has his attention, she begins again, “You have a wife, yes?”

He nods, his grin weakening. “Yes.”

“And by all accounts Lady Yogi is an honorable woman.”

He agrees with a nod of his head.

“You have children, no?”

The residual merriment taken at her expense is rinsed clean by her words. “No.” His gaze averts to the floor and his jaw tightens. 

She blinks, feigning confusion with ease. “You want children, milord?” her question is soft, and she shifts closer to him. 

“We,” he says, his voice sounding fractured and sharp, “we tried, but,” pain strangles his voice, “there were difficulties.”

Hisana inches closer. “My sincerest apologies, Lord Yogi,” she says the words so gently, the pitch of her voice deepening.

He regards her with a somber sidelong look, but does not resist her nearness. Nor does he recoil when she takes his hand lightly in her own. 

“My class can provide some aid in these circumstances,” again, her words come slow and soft.

The scorn that had darkened his face moments before is no more. In its place is a quiet look, and, when he meets her gaze, hope flickers in his eyes. “How?” 

“There are techniques we can teach you,” she says the words carefully, lightly, so as to prevent any torrid implications from creeping into her meaning. “And, male virility increases in many cases, making it easier for the couple to conceive.” She angles her head slightly to the side and deepens their shared gaze. 

Her reiatsu curls around him, pulling him closer, until his lips are hovering close to hers, until his eyes dilate at the prospect of taking her as a lover. His breath feels warm against her cheek, and she can feel his pulse race against her fingers pressing into his wrist.

“You could do that for me?” the words come ragged and throaty. 

“I could, milord.”

 _If_ ….

He closes his eyes for a moment. “I will advocate for a lesser tax classification, _if_ ,” he can’t bring himself to complete the sentence, but she understands.

“Once the ink is dry,” she murmurs and strokes the side of his cheek with the back of her hand, “I will be here.”

“Thank you,” he says, capturing her hand and giving it tight squeeze.

Relief washes his censure clean, and he leaves her with what appears to be renewed sense of purpose. As if hope, fleeting and temporary, may have lifted a burden from his mind at least for now.

Hisana watches his shadow flutter over the rice paper walls as he walks down the corridor. 

For a moment, she considers the lie that she has sold him. Not just him, though. She considers all the men and all her lies. It is what they pay her to do, she reasons. Yet, she can’t deny how her heart withers with each one. 

Frowning, she thinks that telling too many lies might kill a person, and she imagines such a death would be akin to a death by a thousand cuts. 

_Which lie will be the end of me?_ she wonders, heart squeezing in her chest. 

Pushing this thought away, Hisana busies herself with the simple task of clearing the space. Once finished, she crosses the floor to the opposite wall and pulls out a hidden panel to store the tea set. Set on one of the shelves in the compartment is a small sliver of glass.

She heaves a small sigh. It has taken her longer than anticipated, and quashing the tax proposal is by no means a done deal. But….

She did her best. 

Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, Hisana nods approvingly. She doesn’t look as disheveled as she feels. 

She considers whether her slightly undone style is appropriate for wandering the streets of the pleasure quarters, and, with a final look, she concludes that it is modest _enough_. She is a courtesan, after all; modesty isn’t necessary, and propriety can be a liability. 

Smoothing the wrinkles from the fall of the blue silk, she slides back her door and steps lightly into the hall. 

She is so close to freedom, she thinks to herself. Momentary freedom. It’s the only kind she can afford. 

Before she can slip on her geta, however, she is stopped by the harsh tones of her mistress.

“Well done, Hisana.”

Hisana stops briefly at the door and glances askance behind her. 

“The reports from Lord Yogi are favorable. And, it seems you have a new client.” Her mistress puffs from her pipe, a look of dark triumph sparks in her eyes. “A man of the Chambers is a fine addition.”

Hisana exhales a sigh of disbelief. Only her mistress could be so ruthlessly callous about the recent events. “Well, it’s important to diversify,” Hisana mutters sardonically under her breath.

“Indeed, it is.” Her mistress raises her pipe in a mocking toast. “Have a lovely evening, Hisana. Tonight, you earned it.”

She shivers slightly at her mistress’s praise before flinging open the door and stepping onto the sun-cracked earth of the path leading into the streets of the floating world. 

Never before has she felt so happy to be enveloped by the soupy humidity of the hot summer night.


End file.
